The Tenth Chapter

For the next few days, Mikkel was constantly writing, reading, and researching. The only breaks he took were to grab Lukas another chunk of bread. The fairy was growing more and more anxious by the minute. On the fifth day, Mikkel was writing into the night. He had moved in front of the fireplace so that he could see what he was writing. The two journals that he had already finished were sitting on the corner of the man's desk.

Lukas was sitting on top of the books, watching the clock tick. It was past midnight now and he was tired, but he had grown so accustomed to sleeping on Mikkel's chest and didn't like the idea of going to bed without him. He was concerned about his health, too. Beneath his eyes, there were splotches of pale purple and an ugly yellow from his lack of sleep, and he wasn't smiling like he always did.

The fairy chewed thoughtfully on the bottom of his lip. After a few moments of silence, he flew over to the window and squeezed through the crack on the side where Mikkel had left it open. It was pitch black outside, but Lukas was determined to find a flower. He came to rest on the bud of a wildflower, then tugged on it with all his might.

Lukas just knew that this would save Mikkel from the daze he was, and finally, after the long days of silence, the man would speak to him again and pat his head and feed him delicious foods, not just tasteless chunks of bread. He tossed the flower over his shoulder and carried it inside. "It is the perfect gift," he thought to himself.

The man was still hunched over in his chair by the fireplace, murmuring occasionally. Lukas stood next to his hand and poked his finger with the flower stem. Mikkel looked at him for a moment, then looked back at his paper again.

Lukas was a persistent little fairy and he brushed the petals over Mikkel's fingers. Again, the man stopped. This time, he said, "Lukas, I wish I had time, but I do not. I need to finish this. The letter said that these were to be complete in two weeks so that they could be reviewed before incorporated into a lesson."

The fairy didn't fully understand. He was beginning to feel ignored and it was like nothing he'd ever felt before in his life. This was a bad feeling. But he didn't want to upset Mikkel, so he sat down again on the books and was quiet.

For a few minutes, he hummed and drew pictures on the side of Mikkel's paper. He seemed to be content with this until he saw a shadow on the wall next to the window. The source of the shadow was a large bug that was flying close to the wall. It looked like a wasp and it frightened him. He tapped on Mikkel's hand, murmuring, "Mikkel, Mikkel, Mikkel," until the man finally had to look down at him.

"What is it now?" He questioned. In his voice there was a sound of annoyance, but Lukas didn't notice. He was far more concerned with the monster that was soaring towards the kitchen table. He wailed, hit Mikkel's wrist with his hand, and said, "There is a wasp!"

The man shook his head and began writing once more. Lukas watched him with wide eyes. Perhaps Mikkel hadn't heard him. Perhaps he had forgotten what a wasp was and how dangerous they were. Lukas kicked his wrist, yelling, "Mikkel!"

Over and over, the fairy pulled and pushed on his wrist. He wouldn't move. He remained rigid and focused on his work. Lukas, in a fit of rage, grabbed Mikkel's thumb and bit down into the fleshy muscle of his palm.

"Goddammit, Lukas!" Mikkel drew his hand back and knocked the fairy off of the table with the back of his hand. In the process, he had knocked off his completed journals from the side of the desk, and they landed in the fireplace with a pop and crackle. Lukas, on the other hand, had no time to catch himself from falling, and landed on a stone that was far too hot. It burned the back of his arm and he yelped, pulling away from the intense heat.

The man knelt down and at first, the fairy thought that he was kneeling for him, but he reached for the tongs on the side of the fireplace and hurriedly took out the two journals. He dropped them on the floor, stomped them out, and yelled, "Look what you've done! Do you realize that I'll have to work twice as hard now?"

Before the fairy could answer, the man scooped him up, walked over to the window, and pushed him out. He slammed it shut and clicked the lock. "You stay out there and think about what you have done!"

Lukas was still clutching the burn on his arm and trying to push on the window with his shoulder. He pressed his face against the glass, whined, and scratched on the window. "Mikkel," he cried. "Mikkel, I want inside!" It had been so long since he'd had to sleep in the dark. He longed for the warmth and comfort of the house and for the man inside, but now, his back was turned to Lukas and he was tending over the charred journals.

"He does not want me anymore," he thought, "He is through with me."

Upon the realization that the man no longer wanted his company, the fairy wept, and he fell to his knees on the windowsill. He sat there for a few minutes, crying softly all alone with his back pressed to the window.

"If he does not want me, I will go," he thought. With a final glance back, the fairy flew off into the dark night.

A half hour later, Mikkel closed his book and walked over to the window. He flipped the lock and pushed open the side. "I suppose that is long enough. Come on inside and we can go to bed," he said. But the fairy wasn't near. The man called out, "Lukas?" And there was no reply. There was the light whistle of a summer night, the chirping of insects, but no keen, cry, or lament of the fairy.

Mikkel lit a lantern and walked out to the field, careful to look where he stepped as he pressed on, but the fairy was out of sight. "Lukas! Where are you?" He shouted. He was struck with worry. For an hour he searched, looking in every tree, bush, and flower patch. His voice was hoarse from yelling. He decided, soon, that he would go back to the house and attempt to sleep. The fairy would surely show in the morning.